


Its Like Relearning Chess With Broken Pieces

by ShipperInParadise



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Depressed Simon Snow, Fluffy Ending, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Book 1: Carry On, Relationship Problems, Simon doesn't handle it well, This is a club for people who didn't really like Wayward Son, but who really love the concept of having to relearn life, depictions of suicide, when you're no longer the chosen one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28168119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipperInParadise/pseuds/ShipperInParadise
Summary: It's been a year since the world finally started putting itself back together. But it doesn't really feel like much has been mended to Simon. He still jerks awake from nightmares, spells that won't work lost on his tongue. It's a miserable way to live. Penny and Baz try to help, they do, but there's only so much that can be done for someone that's lost everything that made them who they are. Nobody can glue Simon's pieces together for him; he has to do it himself. He just doesn't know how.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	1. The Pawns are Chipping Like Cheap Nail Polish

BAZ

Simon is pressed up against me, his head on my chest. I’m carding my fingers through his hair, and it’s all just so _wow._ I spent an entire seven years at Watford casting glances at him from across the room, and now, almost a year after the incident with the Mage, I get to hold him in my arms and run my hands through his curls. I got luckier than I ever deserved. 

Just as I had promised the day they moved in, I’ve been a fairly constant presence at Simon and Penny’s flat. Sometimes, when I’ve been here too long, Penny will threaten to hang crosses all over the walls. She doesn’t mean it though, obviously. We’ve gotten fairly close, Bunce and I. She’s a good soul, and she loves Simon almost as much as I do.

“Baz?” Simon is still laying on my chest. His voice is soft, and muffled by my shirt. 

Gently, I brush a thumb across his cheekbone. It’s covered in a collage of freckles. I want to kiss all of them. “Yes, love?” 

For a moment, he says nothing. I begin to wonder if he’s changed his mind. But, then, “I think we should talk about something.” 

In an instant, every inch of my body goes cold. The lazy, contented haze that had been consuming me dissipated all at once; the tone of his voice makes all the anxieties I’ve had over the years rush to the front of my mind. Did I do something? Is something wrong? Is he okay? “What?” I asked, numbly. 

“I think we should talk about something,” he repeats, sitting up. My heart sinks as he does. 

“Okay..” I say, and hope it isn’t too shaky. “What is it, Snow?” Snow. Not Simon. It’s a defense mechanism; an involuntary effort to distance myself from a situation that might hurt me. I wish I hadn’t said it as soon as the word leave my mouth. It doesn’t feel right, not after so long calling him Simon, and sweetheart, and darling, and love. 

His face is twisted into a pained expression, like he doesn’t want to say whatever it is he’s thinking. I want to kiss the look from his face. I stay frozen. “Baz,” he begins, and his tone is still the same one that sent a jolt of fear through me. “You know I love you…” 

My chest squeezes tightly. I don’t like where this is going. “Of course. I love you, too. Endlessly.” 

Simon flinches. That’s not supposed to happen. He’s not supposed to flinch when I tell him I love him. “I know you do,” he said, chewing on his bottom lip. “But I… Crowly, I wasn’t expecting this to be this hard.” He runs a hand through his hair anxiously. 

“Snow, what are you saying?” I ask. My heart is in my throat. 

“Baz..” he says again, and I want to tell him to stop. I don’t want to hear my name in that tone anymore. What he says next, though, knocks the breath from my lungs. I feel like throwing up as he mumbles, “We should break up.” 

“ _No.”_ The word slips from my mouth without permission, because I’m pathetic and hopeless and so absolutely in love with him and this is _not_ happening. “Simon, please. I don’t know what I did, but _please._ Tell me. Tell me and I’ll fix it. I swear, I’ll do whatever I have to.” I’m practically begging, and I can’t bring myself to care. I can’t lose him; not when I just got him, not when I’ve finally convinced him to love me. 

Simon shakes his head, and the look on his face is so miserable that all I want to do is hold him until he smiles again. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Baz,” he says. I don’t know what to make of it, because he sounds so genuine. But _clearly_ I did do something wrong, because he’s leaving me. 

“Then why are you doing this?” My voice sounds sad and strained, even to my own ears. 

“Because you can’t be with me.” 

All I can think in response to that is ‘what?’, so I say it. “What?” 

“You can’t be with me.” Simon takes a shaky breath. “We were okay when I was still… I don’t know, still important.” On his back, his wings are twitching. I think, for a moment, that it must be an anxiety thing. His fingers are fidgeting in his lap, too. 

“Simon, I don’t understand…” I begin, but he cuts me off with an exasperated huff. 

“My magic, Baz!” He throws his hands up. “We were okay, hell, we were _good,_ when I had my magic! But I don’t anymore! I’m a Normal. And you _aren’t._ And this isn’t going to work.” 

Oh. Everything starts to fall into place, and my feelings of loss and anxiety just turn into sadness. “Oh, Simon…” I murmur. He is pointedly not looking at me, gaze pointed at the bed sheets instead. Slowly, I reach out and take his hand. “Darling, we’re still good.” 

“We aren’t.” 

“We _are,”_ I insist. “We are good. We’re _so_ good. Listen to me, Simon.” I squeeze his hand, and don’t speak again until he faces me. Eventually, his eyes come back up to mine. “Just because you lost your magic doesn’t make you any less than me. You are still the most amazing person I have ever met.” 

“I’m a Normal, Baz,” he argues, voice broken. 

“I don’t care.” 

“I’m not on your level anymore.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“They’d call you a blood traitor.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“The Families would-” 

“Simon.” I cut him off mid sentence. I’m not going to listen to his whole list of reasons we shouldn’t be together. “I love _you_ . I fell in love with _you_. Magic or not.” 

Simon looks at me, silent, for a long time. I have to fight the urge to reach out and touch his cheek. “...I don’t want you to ruin your life over me,” he eventually says. 

It’s a laughable thought, really. Simon Snow, ruining my life. As though he isn’t the best thing in it. As though he wasn’t the thing that made me feel alive when I hadn’t in years. “I promise you, that isn’t going to happen,” I tell him. “So unless you have other reasons for us to break up, it’s not happening.” 

“...I don’t.” His shoulders sag, and I can see him giving up. 

“Come here, love,” I say, and hold my arms open. Simon scoots closer, and lays his head on my chest once more. Holding him tightly, I whisper, “Please don’t leave me,” into his hair. I honestly don’t know what I would do without him. 


	2. This Faded Plastic Used to be Rooks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter contains very vivid descriptions self hatred and an overdose. If you are going to find that triggering or upsetting, please click away! Take care of your mental health!

SIMON

Baz and Penny have gone out. That’s a thing they do, now; they go out for coffee, or to study, or just for a walk around London as though they’ve been friends for years. It’s a bit odd to witness, sometimes, but I’m glad they’re getting on. As much as I love spending time with both of them, I know I must get boring after a while. I was never on either of their levels smarts wise, but I could at least make up for it in magic. I had more magic than I knew what to do with. But now that it’s all gone, I’m a million miles behind them with no way to catch up. So, yeah. It’s good that they’re hanging out. 

The problem is, though, they’ve been gone for _hours._ The sun was still up when they left for the library (Baz had leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my temple that left me smiling long after he was gone), but now the only light in the apartment is coming from the small lamp on the corner table. I know they’re both fine, that’s not the problem. Penny keeps sending me ‘You still good?’ texts every half hour like she’s worried I’ll do something reckless if she doesn’t check in. So no, I’m not worried about them. But it feels like every second they’re gone is dragging on for a year. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m a grown man, and I should be able to be alone for a few hours. I should be able to read the book in my lap and be fine. 

The darkness of the room feels like it’s creeping in on me, even though I know that’s impossible. It’s in moments like these that I wish I still had my magic; if I had my wand, I would have just cast a **this little light of mine** and let the brightness put me at ease. If Baz were here, he would have cast one already. I don’t know how he does it, but it’s like he can see right into my mind and pull out what I’m needing in a particular moment. Crowley, I’m grateful for him. I definitely don’t deserve him. 

I eventually give up when I realize I’ve been reading the same sentence over and over again. Fuck it, it’s not like I really wanted to read that book anyway. With a sigh, I grab my phone and open Instagram. The first post on my feed is a picture of Agatha, head thrown back in laughter. She looks like she’s on some California beach. Even though we don’t really speak, I still follow her. It would feel too much like giving up if I didn’t. Mindlessly, I like the picture. At least she’s happy. She, and Baz, and Penny. They all found their happiness after Watford. I’m glad. They deserved it after being subjected to the fallout of the chaos that surrounded me. I still feel so guilty for what I put them through; for being so cruel to Baz all those years, for putting Penny in a situation where she had to fight, for treating Agatha like the trophy to be won after a race. None of them deserved to be treated the way they were. 

My phone lights up with another text from Penny. ‘Still good? B and I won’t be much longer.’ I wish that she didn’t feel the need to be so worried about me. ‘All good here. Don’t rush’ I send her. She shoots back a smiley face, and it's back to silence. As much as I want them both home, I don’t want them to come back just because they feel they have to. That’s so incredibly unfair. 

I close the conversation with Penny, and drag myself up off the couch. Splashing some water in your face is something you always see in the movies, and I tell myself it’s as good a bet as anything else I’ve tried to get myself out of this slump. My therapist told me ‘You’re depressed, Simon. It’s natural for people who have gone through something traumatic like you have to develop anxiety, depression, or even PTSD. You’re entitled to these feelings.’ I don’t feel entitled. I feel like I’m wasting everyone’s time. 

The water from the bathroom is ice cold on my skin. It makes me feel more awake, but it’s still like there’s a fog over my brain that I can’t quite shake. I stare at myself in the mirror for a minute, watching the water drops roll down my face. 

My therapist was wrong. I’m _not_ entitled to these feelings. Baz, Penny, and Agatha all went through the same traumatic event, and they’re not falling apart at the seams. Baz and Penny are out studying, and Agatha is having fun at the beach. All I’m doing is moping around the flat like a disaster. With a blank expression, I turn off the water. It didn’t help at all. 

I’ve had a steady headache brewing all night, so I open the cabinet behind the mirror and grab a bottle of painkillers. The bottle says take two, and I shake them into my hand. I down the pills without hesitation. Even after I’ve swallowed them, though, I keep the bottle in my hand. We’d just bought them, so there were only a few pills missing. It was almost a full container. If I took more, if I took all of them, maybe everything would stop for a minute. Just a minute. I was so tired. It could help, maybe. Slowly, I shake more of the pills out of the bottle. With gulps of water from the floral Dixie Cups Penny keeps by the tap, I finish them off. 

Sitting on the floor, leaning against the bathtub, I wait to feel something. The empty bottle is staring at me from the counter, mocking. If even a whole bottle of pills can’t make me feel something, I guess I really am a lost cause. The thought isn’t a pleasant one. 

I don’t notice myself getting tired at first, but, slowly, it starts to build. My eyelids feel heavy, my limbs feel sluggish. Breathing feels like I’m trying to do it through a thick blanket. I guess the pills worked, after all. The prospect of letting it all stop is so inviting. I remember being so horrified when Baz cast that fire, I remember not understanding; I understand now. Sometimes rest just sounds too good. I stifle a yawn, and let my head loll back against the cool glass of the shower doors. My eyelids slip closed. Rest. I just want to rest. I just want to stop thinking. I just want to feel. 


	3. A Man and a Sword Do Not a Knight Make

PENNY

I sent Simon a text asking what he wanted for dinner as Baz and I left the library. We’re almost home, now, and he still hasn’t responded. It’s not that I’m worried, but, well. I’m worried. Simon always answers his texts. 

“I’m sure he’s just sleeping, Bunce,” Baz assures me. “He’s tired lately.” He’s trying to school his expression, but I can tell that it bothers him. Neither of us like seeing Simon like this. 

“Maybe.” I’m worried anyway. “Let’s just hurry, yeah?” 

The rest of the walk home passes quickly, despite the snow that coats the pavements. Thank Merlin the library isn’t too far from the apartment. “Bloody cold, isn’t it?” Baz says, huffing. 

I quirk an eyebrow at him. “Can you even feel heat and cold?” 

“Of course I can,” he scoffs. “It’s my blood that’s gone, not my nerve endings.” With a roll of his eyes, he adds, “Honestly. You’d think you’d known that by now.” I flip him the bird, and he cackles in response. It’s a genuine, happy sound, and I almost smile. If I weren’t so worried about Simon, this would be a nice moment. 

The steps to the complex are slick as we head up them. With numb fingers, I fumble for the key. Baz leans against the wall while I unlock the door. Inside, the hall is much warmer. I unravel my scarf while we head up the stairs. “You suppose Simon’s going to be hungry?” Baz shrugs noncommittally. “Oh, thank you. Very helpful, Basilton.” Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. 

Our door is about midway down the hall. A bulb above on the ceiling is starting to go out; its light is dim and flickering. I make a quick sweep around with my eyes, find us alone, and cast a quick spell. In an instant, the glow seems to soar. Much better. Satisfied, I unlock the door.

“Simon!” I call, stepping inside. “We’re back.” The room is suspiciously empty. “...Simon?” Beside me, I can almost feel Baz tense. This feels just as wrong to him as it does to me. 

“Love?” he calls, a frown in his voice. “Are you asleep?” Still no answer. On the end table, the lamp is still on. I have a sinking feeling that he isn’t asleep. “...I’m gonna go check his bedroom.” 

I nod, but don’t follow. There is a small sliver of light coming out from under the bathroom door, and my eyes are drawn to it. As Baz disappears around the corner, I make my way over. “Simon?” I ask, softly, and push the door open. 

The scream that rips itself from my throat doesn’t even sound like mine. 


End file.
